An article written in the 1990s while in Dublin for the Pioneer Magazine.
What Does Wexford and a small town in the
Southwest of Scotland have in Common?
General Sir Charles Massey Mathew, a celebrated War Hero from the First World War. Sir Charles was born in Wexford, Ireland in 1866, educated privately at Portsmouth Grammar School, started his career in the Durham Light Infantry, in 1884.
Continue reading “Major General Sir. Charles Mathew and #Kilbirnie War Memorial”
An interesting look at Kilbirnie, complete with family names
Brightly burns the glow of friends
constant, true and pure
No one can claim he has no kin
where Love always endures
A lamp that´s lit by Kin´s red flame
of blood spilt on the earth
for need of Love, a better life
on your land boats did berth
The boys who glowed within the light
were taken in your arms
for in the darkness their was hope
of new lives safe from harm
So to friends on distant shores
for many and the few
and a toast to those we cannot name
lost in the sea of blue
Lilac
Last night I dreamt of Lilac trees,
Upon the Garnock Stream,
amid the thorns and briars thick
a purple colour beamed
I thought about the folk who came
and chanced upon this sight
perhaps ancestors, long since gone
left it burning bright
Perhaps a bird did carry it
from far and distant lands
or from a child´s hands it fell
and grew to proudly stand
Or from the Castle seeds did blow
across the glade and vine
to where the lovers meet in quiet
with bodies deep entwined
Kilbirnie War Memorial, unveiled in 1922 by General Mathew of Place. He is buried in the Knox vault in Kilbirnie old cemetery, It sits next to the huge grave stone of William Knox, (the largest in the old cemetery)
Mr and Mrs Tod (middle) with Frank Fraser (R)
I’ve been writing poetry about Kilbirnie and the area for many years now. You can see all of them here on my site. This one is about the Rowan Tree which was in my Grandfather’s garden in Castle Drive. Its likely still there.
In the shade of Grandpa’s house
There stood a Rowan Tree
Where my Brother tried to climb
With Rosalyn and me
Every day my Grandpa came
Admired towering boughs
While we as children playing there
Saw darkened twigs and crows
Shadows hung upon his life
With towering darkened power
Yet we as children plain could see
Their withering every hour
Its leaves held back the sunshine light
Its branches stern with years
Sitting with his chair and pipe
It calmed away his fears
Yet we as children playing in sight
Saw only twigs and leaves
Revealing more of sky to us
Than he could ever see
We pointed up at shafts of light
Throughout the darkened power
Whilst he preferred the shaded glade
To pass the wakened hour
We saw sun and endless days
Upon his chair he sat
Despite the passing years it stood
The tree was sound at heart
